“Is this all I am to you?” she said softly, long drawn-out sighs leaving her mouth as her body moved away from me.
“No,” I said abruptly, almost harshly. I sounded angry and that made me mad at myself. Why did I sound angry? And why was my stomach churning and my forehead heating up? I wanted to jump out of the bed. I wanted to go have a shower and a long run. I needed distance from her.
“All you want is sex.” She looked disgusted and I wasn’t sure if it was with me or herself.
“That’s not all that I want.”
“You don’t want love and marriage, though, do you?” I could hear the hope in her voice. How could I tell her that in some sort of alternate reality, I wanted just that? In my deepest dreams I wanted that—the white-picket fence, the wife, three kids, a loud yappy dog and moody cat. But that was just a fantasy, not real life. My real life wouldn’t go anything like that.
“You want a family and kids?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“Yes,” she said lightly. “Two boys, a girl. A Labrador Retriever.”
“You’ll have it,” I said, though it killed me to say that. I didn’t want to think of her with another man, married, giving birth to his kids. In fact it infuriated me. It made me want to kill the other man, even though he didn’t really exist.
“I guess not in the next four weeks,” she tried to joke, her words shaky.
“Yeah, not in the next four weeks.” I smiled back at her, trying to forget that this arrangement was temporary. She wouldn’t be here with me every morning. I didn’t have to worry that she’d take over my life. She’d only be here for a few more weeks and then everything would be back to normal.
“So what exactly do you feel for me, TJ?” she asked again, and I froze. I didn’t want to get into this conversation with her. After I’d seen her crying, I had wanted to punch something or someone. A part of me had been scared. I’d never seen her like that before. It had opened up something in me and I had let her into a part of my soul that had been closed off before.
“I don’t know how to answer that question, Mila.” I sighed, “I really don’t.”
“Do you love me?” she asked me again hopefully, and my heart lurched at her question. I didn’t know why she kept torturing the both of us.
“I love you like family,” I lied. I wasn’t sure exactly what I felt for her, but I knew I didn’t love her like a sister or anything like that.
“Like family?” I could see the hurt in her eyes and it made my heart thud a little harder. I wanted to reach out and touch her face, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Some part of me, the part that was reserved, the part that was scared of emotions and feelings, didn’t know how to reach out. I didn’t know how to tell her the things I was feeling. I didn’t even understand the things I was feeling. How could I tell her that the hurt in her face was the same hurt I felt beating in my heart right then?
“So you think of me as your sister?” This time her voice was angry, betrayed, and I swallowed hard.
“Obviously not, Mila. I wouldn’t fuck my sister.” My words were harsh, harsher than I’d intended, and I was annoyed at myself.
“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t fuck her, just everyone else,” Mila said bitterly and looked away from me. I could feel that I was losing her and I was scared. I took a deep breath and reached out a hand to her arm. She flinched and pulled it away from me and I felt like she’d just slapped me in the face.
“Mila, I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. All those magical fairy-tale words that you deserve, but I’m no Prince Charming. I’ve never pretended to be.” I rubbed my forehead. “I’m all sorts of messed up, and you know that.”
“It’s fine,” she said softly, looking away. “I don’t care. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m fine.”
I just lay there then, staring at her face as she avoided my eyes. I watched as her lips trembled and she started to play with her hair. I could tell that she was upset. She always fiddled with her hair when she was nervous or upset. I looked back up to her face and I could see that her eyelashes were moving quickly. My throat caught as I realized she was fighting tears. I’d done this to her. I felt overwhelmed and angry with myself. I didn’t want to make her cry. I wanted her to be happy. I needed her to be happy. I was already in too deep. I knew she would end up hating me. I know that the secrets I held would break her. I knew they would break her, but I couldn’t help that.
I closed my eyes for a second and started talking. The words came slowly, since my brain wasn’t functioning properly and I didn’t know what to say.
“I do like you, Mila,” I said into the silence, my eyes still closed. “I might even love you in some way. Some sort of love that grows from the heart like weeds in a garden.”